


it's been a long time since I prayed

by majorshipper



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Jimmy-POV, Season/Series 06, Vessel Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-05
Updated: 2011-07-05
Packaged: 2017-10-21 01:59:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/219641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majorshipper/pseuds/majorshipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel doesn't ever sleep, and he doesn't care what Jimmy's seen. Not anymore, not now that he’s trying to show Jimmy whatever it is that he thinks will make it all okay.</p><p>General spoilers for season six.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's been a long time since I prayed

_This isn't what I signed up for, Castiel!_

Jimmy pounds his fists against the inside of his own body, scrambles for footing and control.

It's like trying to scale Everest in swim trunks. Frigid Grace brushes against him, nudging him towards unconsciousness as Castiel begins painting symbols in blood. Jimmy doesn't let go.

 

He beats against the wall in his own head until he thinks his hands should be dripping blood but the skin over his knuckles remains unbroken and flawless, and Castiel ignores him

It's his body, and he didn't _sign up for this_ , damn it.

He just wants out. He doesn't care anymore about Castiel or God or Heaven or the Winchesters. He just wants to be away from it all. He wants to see his wife and Claire and he wants his heart to not clench up with pain and longing every time he thinks of them.

 _You said Yes._ Castiel's voice is painfully inhuman and hard, and it reminds Jimmy of the wall separating him from his body.

 _Not to this_ , he shouts back at the angel. Castiel goes back to ignoring him, and slaughters the next of his brothers.

Before, Castiel would always offer him a way out, reach out with his Grace to offer his vessel the obliviousness of sleep when violence loomed. Now, though, Jimmy has seen his angel murder his brothers and sisters, seen him lay waste to an entire town.

He wants to sleep for ten years and wash the blood from the insides of his eyelids.

Castiel doesn't ever sleep, and he doesn't care what Jimmy's seen. Not anymore, not now that he’s trying to show Jimmy whatever it is that he thinks will make it all okay.

Castiel doesn't close Jimmy's eyes when the other angel's Grace flares, and not for the first time Jimmy just wishes Grace burned his eyes out just like every other person. Maybe he could stand it, then.

 _Please, Castiel_ , he begs. _I just want out._

The angel who once (a long, long time ago) told him the story of Noah stands in the middle of charred concrete as ashes fall and ignores the small human voice of his vessel.

 

On occasion Castiel will turn inwards; focus on Jimmy and Jimmy alone. He's trying to convince Jimmy that he is a better God than the original right now. The novelty of chatting with yourself has worn away, and all that Jimmy can feel now is disgust.

 _Look at what you've become_ he thinks, before he remembers his thoughts aren't his own.

Castiel snorts. _Dean said the same thing._

 _Maybe Dean's right._ Jimmy murmurs, and watches his breath crystallize in the chill.

Castiel's eyes change. _I am a better God. You will see._ He looks just like Claire the day she came home from art to show him the painting of their backyard; child-like pride and the need to be loved written in the fine lines of Jimmy's own face.

Jimmy used to love God. Now he hates him, hates him for what he's turned his children into.

 

Sometimes, when Jimmy's feeling bored and cynical and not a little bit fearless, he wonders how it was that he got picked to be the vessel of heaven's very own bipolar angel with daddy issues. One day he's killing angels and smiting demons and converting masses, and the next he's sitting on a bench in a park moping about how he wishes the Winchesters could see him as God or how he does so much of a better job than his Father and yet still so many do not love him.

If Jimmy was like Dean, this would be the point where he'd chug Jack Daniels and pass out. But seeing as he can't even control his own body, he settles for harassing Castiel until the angel gives up and slams his Grace against the troublesome little vessel's soul and Jimmy has a way out.

That’s a bit like drowning in a sea of ice. He’s used to it, though.

 

 _No, no, no, no. No. No. No!_

 _It doesn't work like that, Jimmy._

 _It should._

 

He sees it coming a mile away, and says so. Castiel dismisses him, as he always does.

 

Jimmy doesn’t even feel it when he dies.

 

 

 

He opens his eyes and sits up. Beside him, Amelia rolls over and puts a hand on his arm.

“Hey,” she says, and smiles. Sunlight streams in the window. There’s a dog barking somewhere far away. Dust in the sunbeam swirls over the hardwood floor, and the sheets on the bed are sleep-rumpled.

It’s warm.

“Hey,” Jimmy says back, and for the first time in a long time, he smiles.

  
_fin_   



End file.
